HP and the Recurrence of Things Past
by mortianna
Summary: Harry Potter has a feeling he lives through things again and again. Detention with Snape, for example. Is there a solution to their problem? follow-up of Raindrops... (SS/HP, slash) R?


This short piece on Snape and Harry is the result of the "Raindrops"-story. Can be read alone, but makes a little more sense (sense? What sense?) when read after (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=848834)

Yep, I know that Snape is completely ooc in at least the second part. I couldn't help it. He wanted it like that:-)

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HP and the Recurrence of Things Past 

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Hey, you've got to hide your love away

"Mr. Potter". 

The silky voice of the Potions teacher brought Harry back into the classroom. His thoughts had been occupied elsewhere. Never a good thing to do in class, far less so in Potions.

"Thank you very much for your kindly paying attention, Potter."

The voice of the teacher dripped with sarcasm. Hermione shot him a nervous glance. Ron writhed on his chair and swallowed. The rest of the Gryffindors watched with something bordering on pity with Harry and anger of him. Points would be taken off Gryffindor, this much seemed to be sure, and Harry was to blame. Somehow he aroused the wrath of Snape even more than he had done in earlier years.

Only Neville looked relieved that it was not him who had the full attention of the teacher just now. He relaxed in his chair.

The Slytherins smirked, clearly awaiting and looking forward to a tongue lashing of the first order, to their utter entertainment.

"Mr. Potter", the torture had only just begun and Harry couldn't help shivering with anticipation.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

Harry blinked. Snape could not be in earnest.

He brought himself to look into these dark eyes. No blinking there, obviously.

That bastard.

Out to humiliate him, as always.

He never seemed to tire of that.

"You can't mean it, Sir". Ron. Of course. His valiant knight. 

"Pray Mr. Weasley, tell us all, since when have you become an expert on the meaning of my words?"

Harry couldn't help it. If Snape went on like that, he would laugh out loud. Really.

"Well, I I ..."stuttered Ron, who couldn't really claim to be an expert on anything Snape. Nearly seven years of torture at school and one fuck in the hay didn't add up to much in the end when it came to knowing the man.

"I thought so", said Snape with his lowest voice, glaring at Ron and swirling back onto Harry. Some among the Slytherins giggled. They liked their head of house performing like that. Before the Gryffindors, every Gryffindor, but much more so to the Hero and his knight. 

"Now, Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind as to enlighten us as to the content of that thing you call your head, we all would surely appreciate it".

"Asphodel and Wormwood make a sleeping potion so strong that it is called the draught of living death", said Harry, in a bored tone. It was the exact quote from first year. He had never forgotten that one.

"I'm quite impressed, Potter. You might pass the exam, after all, with knowledge every first year should come to school with". Robes billowed, black gaze washed about Harry and Snape returned to the desk in front of the class.

Harry swallowed hard. But he couldn't keep it in. It was on the tip of his tongue and out before he could push it back. "You asked that stupid question in the first place."

Deadly silence fell over the room. Nobody dared breathe.

The Potions master swivelled around. 

"Now now", he said in that low oh so low tone that marked his deadlier hours. "Our hero Mr. Potter calls a question stupid just because he can answer it. If that isn't just nice ...". Nervous giggles filled the room, sly glances at Harry and Snape, the combatants in an already well-known battle. Ron especially gulped and looked at Harry with an air of despair. 

"Silence", roared the Potions master in an uncanny imitation of the headmaster when he tried to calm the excited masses after the announcement of the troll in the dungeon by Quirrel in Harry's first year.

The effect was the same. Even more so. The usually low, soft, and deadly voice, blown up to full volume, killed off even the most hysterical giggles. 

Snape glared at all of them. Mouths fell, throats constricted and gulped. Eyes tried to hold his glare, or closed. Then the Full Force Glare was on Harry. And the voice was back to low and soft and deadly when Snape said: "Very well, Potter, as you insist on making your life as miserable as can be for the remainder of your time here, I shall endeavour to rise to the occasion. Gryffindors, note that 30 points will be taken from your house for your classmate's cheek".

Slow groans ran rampant through the rows of the Gryffindors, and Harry earned some very bad looks, indeed. The end of term, the end of school being so near, the house cup was something very close. Or had been before Harry's completely superfluous insolence. Even Hermione, his next to best friend, shot him a glance which would have been even more rigid, had she not had all the columns in her head, and deduced quickly that they were still ahead of Slytherin by some points. Which would dwindle away if Harry insisted on being the prat he could be around Snape.

Harry just stared defiantly but didn't utter a word. He was not that mad. Having the Slytherins and Snape against him was something he was used to. But the whole of his house hating him with a venom, was a prospect even he couldn't embrace wholeheartedly.

Even if he was sorely tempted.

"And detention for you, Potter. My dungeon, tonight at 8.30. Be prepared for your worst experience ever as the prospect of having to face another useless evening with you will make me think of things unknown of heretofore. You'll be cursing the hour you decided to make your life insupportable through your sheer damned – insolence. Trust me". 

And Harry did trust him. Oh yes. As did the others who regarded him with a melange of malicious glee and honest pity. An evening with Snape in that mood was nothing to be jealous of. Even Ron gulped again, when he looked at Harry. "You're alright?", he whispered. Harry nodded stoically. "I'll be alright".

Yes. And he was. 

Arriving at Snape's workroom at 8.30 sharp, he found it to be empty. He entered nonetheless and had a look around. Ah, there was a bunch of ingredients that needed sorting. He took to work. It was one that any first year could have done, so surely Snape would think him being capable of it, Harry thought with a grin on his face.

A strong hand clamped on his left shoulder. 

"What do you think you are doing there?"

Harry managed not to shriek or jump or in any other way than looking at the man acknowledging his presence.

He gave him his own special version of The Stare. Stoic. Immovable. Impenetrable.

Or very nearly so.

"Oh come on", the voice of the Potions master was deceivingly soft. "You know damn well that you haven't got to do that".

"Do I?", asked Harry, not moving his eyes.

The teacher nodded and gave his best version of Dark Penetrating and Brooding Stare.

Harry did not avert his eyes.

"Haven't I?"

Snape shook his head and didn't avert his eyes either. They were back to their staring the other one down contest. This could last for hours on end.

It didn't. 

Harry felt a soft curl at his lips and the next moment the Potions master was up and about, all over him, his dark robes brushing Harry's body, enfolding him in an embrace which was at last joined by Snape's arms.

Harry's arms went up and around the neck of the teacher with a will of their own. His lips met those of the other man, ravenously hungry, devouring the at first cool, then quickly warming pads of soft flesh. So thin, yet so sculpted and utterly enjoyable. 

And enjoy he did.

As did Snape.

He returned the kiss of his student with equal force and skill. He was the one who added tongue to the play of lips. His velvety tip explored the rosy lower lip of Harry, who opened his mouth obligingly.

When their tongues met, both gasped.

"Harry, oh Harry," Snape murmured into the mouth of the young man. "It has been so long".

Harry felt part of his body get achingly erect at feeling the words of the other man in his own mouth and sensing a stirring at his hip at the same time.

"Yes", he whispered. "Twelve hours since I left your room". 

Snape stroked Harry's hair and saw into his eyes with a look nobody outside the room would have thought the stern Potions teacher capable of. Well, aside from one or two people who might have had a glimpse of him in a mood like this. 

"We shouldn't do this", Snape said hoarsely. "It is so damned undignified".

Harry stared at him with indignation. "What? You can't mean it. Shouldn't be doing - this?" He swayed his hips into those of the other man and pressed into him a little more, just to mark his point.

Snape groaned. Their erections grounded into each other very smoothly, and the friction nearly killed all his thinking capabilities.

"We shouldn't be forced to be doing it like this", he clarified his intentions and kissed the unruly black hair just underneath his nose. It smelled of green green grass and golden sun. Snape closed his eyes in delight. The simple joys of having the boy so near never failed to amaze him. 

Green eyes lit and sparkled. "Won't be for much longer". Sweet rosy lips nibbled at Snape's collar, at the neck, the ear. Soft breathes caressed the earlobe of the Potions master. Who shivered quite nicely. Harry chuckled.

"Brat", Snape breathed a little hard. 

"You repeat yourself, Sev", said Harry and touched the long lower leg of the teacher with his foot, rubbing it up and down the dark cloth. It felt quite electrifying. "And you did so, in class, too. Asphodel and Wormwood, really". 

"What do you expect?", Snape asked. He mouthed a trail of kisses along Harry's jaw line and was rewarded with the closing of the green eyes and an increase in breathing. "I'm much too old to think up new ways for you to earn detention every night."

Harry laughed. Sev's dark tresses tickled his neck. "You hypocrite. You love to think of ways to torture me."

The Potions master pulled himself up to his considerable height, being still just a little taller than Harry. "Mr. Potter, what gives you the impression – oh stuff it". He fell onto the lips of the younger man again, doing away with all pretence at something bordering on sanity.

Harry's laugh was stifled by the hot mouth of Snape but he didn't protest. 

No. Not at all. He matched Snape kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, caress for caress.

They were crazy all right. Both of them. And loved it. Only one more month, and he wouldn't be a student any more. He wouldn't have to earn detention just to be with the one he – wanted to be with.

Just before they would go completely over the top, lost it and shagged in the open work room visible for every passer by, the older man got back enough of his senses to call a truce: "Stop it".

Harry saw into the dark eyes with his own dilated pupils. His face was flushed, his body tingled so much it hurt, and he was in urgent need of something. Not anything, he knew that much. There was one person who could feed his hunger, satisfy his thirst, and luckily, he was with that very person.

"Bedroom?", he asked with a voice none of his fellow students would have recognized. Safe for a special redhead who had spent part of their first encounter together with them. Partook in a moment of utter – well, devotion to the task at hand, was the description Snape had given afterwards, and none of the two Gryffindors concerned had contradicted him.

"Couldn't have put it better myself", Snape muttered into the ear of Harry that was handy in front of his lips, making the man shiver even worse. "Come". He grabbed Harry at one part of what was becoming his completely superfluous robes, and swished his wand at an extremely ghastly array of potted somethings with his other hand. The wall vanished and they escaped into a small staircase that lead to the Potions master's private chambers.

Harry fought a feeling of deja vu while Snape spelled the wall behind their backs again.

How often had they been doing – just that – for the last year? Did it count? Did it change anything? Had it lessened their desire for each other?

No. No way. 

And he was pretty sure that it wouldn't change in the near future. And as a consequence they would have to come to an agreement. One which allowed them to be together, in one way or another. He knew, Severus thought so, too. Simply must. Please.

But he would not ask him. No. He had been the one to do the initial step. And the one who prolonged that – thing – whatever it was, after the three of them came back to school. With Snape alone, of course. Ron had no part in this any more. None of them regretted that. It had been mostly curiosity and arousal via voyeurism that had brought Ron into it. He seemed to be quite content now on the other side of the river, home again, with Hermione.

It was a completely different thing with Snape and Harry. Something which defied easy labels.

Well, Snape had fought it, of course. Harry allowed himself a smile, when he thought about how hard Snape had fought the mutual attraction.

'Not in school, not under the eyes of Dumbledore, not while you are a student, sod off, get yourself laid by someone younger, let me be, it was only while we were away, it didn't mean anything, GO AWAY.'

Yes. Snape had fought hard. And lost.

And won, of course. He knew that. But he was not so sure, not to his very core, if Snape thought so, too. He surely acted like it, but then again ...

No, if Snape didn't say anything about the matter before Harry graduated, this would be it. He would leave Hogwarts with his heart broken, but leave he would. 

Without looking back – much.

"What?" the voice of the person he had been thinking about so hard purred into his ear. He couldn't help shivering and getting very aroused again. Again, after having lost some of his initial zest through thoughts. That would not do. He wouldn't waste the possibilities, the infinite possibilities Snape had to offer, just because of thinking of the future. 

The future would take care of itself. Hopefully.

They entered the rooms of the teacher and had barely closed the door behind themselves, Snape quickly muttering spells to keep them alone, in seclusion and unheard, when their clothes soiled the speckless floor and the two naked bodies clung to each other. 

For a short sweet moment they were just holding each other, revelling in the closeness and nakedness, feeling like it was the very first time. Which of course it was not. And the bodies started moving on their own volition. 

It was like that every time. The brains seemed to be short-circuited, and cut off completely. The ever present thoughts were not present any more.

Only feeling. And doing. Bodies doing as they felt. Seeking for every opportunity to come closer. Seeking pleasure. Seeking to give pleasure. It didn't matter which way. Now. Just now. Complete congruency of thought and action. Electric input leading to electrifying output. Bliss.

Touch. Move. Closer. Deeper. Oh deeper. Faster. Faster, please. Yes, oh yes. Just like that. Swirling about. Round and round. Circles before closed eyes. 

Hot damp bodies moving like one. Pressing against each other, into each other. In and out. In and out. Again and again. Pleasure, oh pleasure. 

Tenderness beneath hard thrusts.

Again and again. More, and more, and more. Panting, groans, growls, moans – no need for speech.

Jumping the wave, riding it, riding, holding, holding – and falling. Every time. Always. 

But oh – what a fall!

Bliss.

Thoughts. Return of the brain. Nothing wrong with that. If only... Oh, if only.

If only the sweet congruency, the absence of the whirlwind of thoughts would last longer.

But it doesn't. Just so you have to try again and again. And you do.

They do. Using their time together well. Not thinking of the outside world. Trying not to think of it. Until exhaustion forces them to stop trying to reach the unreachable. Permanent bliss. No such thing on earth.

Severus has known that for a long time. Harry still fights the knowledge. But he enjoys fighting so much. 

Severus looks down on the flushed, now calm and satisfied face of his lover. Yes, he thinks of Harry Potter as his lover. How –strange.

What will become of him? Only one more month to go. One more month of this exquisite torture. He knows it can't last. Won't last. Harry has to leave Hogwarts. He must. Simply must.

Snape knows, that he could make him stay. It would be easy. The boy is waiting so desperately for a sign. Just one small sign that his lover wants him to stay. He would. Of course he would. 

And would throw away his future just like that. Just like the completely foolish Gryffindor he is. 

Of course he loves him. He admitted that much to himself quite a while ago. He wouldn't have done anything in the first place if he didn't. Weasley on the side was hardly the occasion he had dreamt of. 

And dream he had. But would never have acted upon dreams. What a ridiculous notion. But then this muggle study thingy Dumbledore had set them out to do, with Potter as the teacher, teaching and teasing him, had brought down his defences with a considerable crash. 

At first he only wanted to test the boy. See how far he would go. 

Yes, he had seen just how far Harry would go. And had gone. He allowed himself a smile at the thought of just how far the irredeemable Gryffindor had gone.

Yes. And he had let him get on with it after their return to Hogwarts. That was when he noticed that he loved the boy. Harry Potter. The boy who was loved by Severus Snape. Hardly a headline for the Witch Weekly. And never would be.

No. He wouldn't say the word Harry was waiting for. Simply couldn't. He had done bad things enough already, all of this was so wrong. He wouldn't bind the trusting fool to a being so much older and darker and utterly bad.

No. Even if the two of them wished for nothing else at the moment. That would fade away with time. It always did. Especially when so young. So young as Harry.

Snape felt something in his throat, threatening to strangle him. No, that would not do.

He brushed his lips at the cheek of Harry. Carpe diem was a motto he had held quite high over the years. You never know if you'll be still alive the next day.

So he used this night to the complete delight of his visitor and himself. Should the future just do what the future always did. Wreak havoc. He would have had what he could. Nothing more, not all he wanted. But more than he could have hoped for. Which was alright. Quite alright. Really.

- _The end _-

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I'm sorry, I really am. I set out to write a nice and steamy sequel, fluffy too, about Harry and Snape as lovers who have to hide. Severus, perhaps with the influence of too much Minx ;-) wouldn't have it. Sorry. I'll try again ...


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